Part 4-5

No bigger than the length of a tree, cliffs of carved rock peaked, forming a tiny crescent beach. Black-veined the sand, and a cold lingered despite the remaining sunlight. Her musing of scouring for buried treasure, alone and without a single human to know, were washed away the moment the boat hit the sand. Holes puckered the shores, with the largest one near a man with a mop of salt-crusted hair, turned over on his side like a piece of driftwood. She heaved the boat up, and walked over in silence towards the stranger. He wore no shackles, and aside from sun-baked skin was unblemished. Curled to his stomach like a pillow was a treasure chest, bearing a thick lock.

“Hello?” she said, and in one hand gripped an oar, aware of the coincidence of finding someone else there. “Sir?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he muttered, “siren… have you come to finish me off?”

“What?” Margot said and straightened up like a stovepipe. “I’m no siren. I came here to find-“

“Your treasure,” he interrupted, and thudded the treasure chest’s lock with his hand, “yes, I’ve found it.”

Margot lowered the oar. With one swipe of her hand and he was weak enough to topple over. “And do you have a key?”

“If I did, would I still be here?” he said and smirked.

Margot sighed out and peered out to the empty sea, which churned up like butter. “How did you even get here?”

“A fish,” he said, and pointed outward. She flinched, but as his eyes were closed he didn’t notice, “it talked to me, and told me I’d find what I most desired here. I took my ship and crashed. But you just think I’m out of my mind.”

“I think you’re sun sick,” Margot said and blinked. The storm crested closer, dropping early rain onto them. “Let’s get back to town.”

“Which one?” he said and coughed like he’d swallowed sand.

“Porttown,” she said and stared at this stranger from a place unknown. Curiosity peaked in her, but little time was left for them to get off the Isle of Sirens. Night stars winked overhead, and the warning of Burning Eye flamed in the distance. Margot budged the treasure chest from the man’s grip and heaved it into the boat.

The man began to crawl towards the only way out of the island, his legs limp as noodles. Margot braced herself and hauled a hand under him to give him footing. She set him into the boat as he passed out. But once she stepped her weight into the boat too, water poured in. Margot hopped out, waiting to see if the boat might sink. But it remained steady. Two choices loomed for Margot. One of leaving the man behind to tempt his fate overnight in the Lonely Sea. The other to bring home a treasure that promised to be everything she needed. And it tempted her, like an unseen siren in her very bones.

But she shoved the treasure back to the Isle of Siren’s shore, and cast off. Waves lashed at the boat, tugging them around like dog tugging at a rope. More than once, Margot peered behind them to see the Isle of Sirens fade away, along with the hopes of getting a decent meal that night for her family. But at her side looking paler every passing minute, she knew the man wouldn’t have survived another night. Cold and soaked, Margot heaved them on until out of the worst of the Lonely Sea lay behind them.

Once at water’s edge, she wrangled the boat to the dock. The man staggered up to the pathway into town but collapsed to his backside.

“Stay there,” she hollered, tying up the boat. She rushed over and dropped down to sit near him.

“So, the sailors lie too,” he said and winked.

“Oh yes?” Margot said and raised her eyebrows.

“The sirens are far from hags. Good people, I’d say,” he said before his eyes rolled back and he slumped to his side.